You're on your period- Harry Styles Blurb
Word count: 1178
Synopsis: Periods really suck. But not so much when you have a sweet boyfriend to take care of you. (FLUFF!)
You felt like you were going to cry as you opened the freezer and saw that you were out of ice cream. You were looking forward to binge eating that ice cream and watching your favorite show when you get back from work. You had a particularly long day, or maybe you just felt like that because of the piercing pain from your period cramps and your hormones being all over the place.
You shut the door of the freezer with a sigh, dragging yourself to bed. You curled up, clutching your stomach as another bad wave of pain hits you. You forgot to take some pain meds when you were downstairs, and you were just too tired so you just layed there.Your boyfriend, who you now remember, had helped you finish the last of the ice cream when you had a movie night last week wasn’t home yet, so you phoned him.
“Hey baby! You back home?”, Harry answers and you pout, just wanting to crawl into his arms. “Harry..”
“What’s wrong, darling? Are you okay?” He doesn’t like it when your voice isn’t sounding peppy.
“Nooo..”, you draw out, making Harry frown as he gets in his car, being done with the studio for the day. “Why is that, baby? Anything I can help with?”
“We ran out of ice cream..can you get some for me please?”, you ask softly, making Harry’s heart melt. He loved when you asked him to get things for you, even if it was something small.
“Of course, love. You aren’t feeling too good, are you?”, he coos, joining the dots as he remembers the date. He keeps track of your periods too.
“Nuh uh. I’m having a war with my uterus right now.”, you tell him, making him chuckle softly. “I can’t imagine what that’s like. Anything else you need, baby? Stocked up for the week?”
You really have the sweetest boyfriend. “Yeah, I’m good. Just need you.”
“Aw, I’ll be home soon, my love. You get some rest, yeah?”
You hummed, closing your eyes already. “Love you.”
“I love you too. Oh, what flavor did you want?”
“Flavor?”, you smirk, and Harry laughs. “The ice cream flavor, silly.”
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Harry didn’t just buy you ice cream. He got you your favorite packet of chips, some chocolate and some other snacks you liked. He kept it all in the kitchen and went upstairs to find you. You had dozed off while waiting for him, and he smiled as he took you in, walking to you quietly. He leaned down, gently brushing his fingers across your forehead, brushing away strands of your hair that fell onto your face.
He thought not to wake you up and just slide into bed so he could give you a cuddle, but he spotted a stain on your shorts that would leak into the sheets soon. He didn’t mind, but he knew you would, so he gently kisses you awake with some kisses.
You wake up to his feather soft kisses on your skin, a contrast to your aching stomach. You open your eyes and Harry gives you a smile. “How’re you doing, love?”
“Not good, it hurts.”, you mumble, sighing as he presses a kiss to your temple. “Oh, baby. You wanna take a warm shower, maybe? You’ve uh, got a bit of blood on your shorts.”
Your eyes widened and you quickly looked down to your shorts and around the bed. “Shit..I’m sorry babe, I fell asleep and didn’t realize-”
“-Hey, hey, it’s okay, sweetheart.”, he says, giving you his hand to help you out of bed. Thankfully, the blood hadn’t seeped into your sheets yet. “See, the sheets are fine. If it wasn’t, I’d change them, nothing to be sorry about.”, Harry tells you, and you smile softly, leaning to his side carefully, giving him a side hug.
“I’ve got you some snacks too. After you’re feeling all fresh, we can cuddle up on the couch with a movie, hm?”
You nod, pressing your lips to his, giving him a kiss. “That sounds good.”
Harry lets you take care of your business and shower. He also got changed and set up all the food with a movie, bringing your fuzzy blanket to the couch. He got your heating pad and your pain meds ready as well.
You slouched over downstairs in one of Harry’s shirts and another pair of your shorts, making him smile at how cute you looked. Your hair was up in a messy bun, and you had no makeup on your face, but to him, you were gorgeous.
He opens his arms, and you fall into them, crawling onto his lap. “How was your day?”
“Good, good. Got some recording done, but I’ll probably do the same part again tomorrow. I missed you.”, he says, pressing a kiss to your cheek, holding you close to him with arm as he leans over to grab the pain meds. “Here, take these, love.”
You swallowed them down with the water he gave you and rested your head on his chest, snuggling up to his warmth.
While you tell him about your day, he slides the heating pad under your shirt to keep it over your tummy, before adjusting you on his lap and bringing the fuzzy blanket around you. One of his hands slips inside to rub your lower back in firm circles, with just the right amount of pressure, making you feel relaxed. When you told him about your ice cream craving, he immediately grabbed the tub and gave you the spoon so you can start digging in.
“Thanks for all this, you’re the best.” You kiss him.
“Only the best for you.”, he says, smiling as he watches you scoop some of the ice cream into your mouth and hum as the cold desert with the luscious chocolate hits just the right spots. “That good, huh?” Harry laughs.
“Yes! Here, I’m willing to share.”, You fed him some too. “Mm, that’s good.”, he agrees. You watch the movie for some time.
“Is the pain going away?”, he asks, pressing kisses to your hair and you smile, kissing his jaw. One of his hands still stayed on your back, and the other was playing with your hair. “Mhmm. You make it better.”
“I’m glad.” He smiles, stroking his thumb over your cheek. “Hate to see my baby in pain.” You blush, looking up at your handsome boyfriend. “I really like you, you know?”
He scoffs out a laugh, pinching your cheek. “You really like me? Give that ice cream back.” He moves his hand to your side, his fingertips dancing over your skin as he looks at with a glint in his eyes. He adores you.
You giggle, going to grab his hand as it threatens to tickle you. “Correction! I really love you.”
“Hm, you better.” Harry nudges his nose against your cheek, pulling you impossibly closer to him. You laugh, and he takes your chin, giving you a kiss. “Cause I really love you too.”
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i feel like the worst person in the world for this thought, but i am SO excited for it to get cold enough for my neighbor’s flowers to die…and i think these self obs from today help me explain exactly why.
cw for descriptions of allergic sneezing + mess
i feel horrible for wishing death on this little old man’s plants, but his garden is full of an entire rainbow of multiple different flowers that have made me sneeze every single day i’ve walked passed them since april.
even on the good days when i manage to hold back an immediate sneezing fit, they still make my eyes water and my nose run, forcing me to try (and fail, almost always fail) to balance sniffling back the mess and trying not to sneeze long enough to make it inside my own place, which is not only a race against the clock but a race against nature itself imo.
i felt especially silly and embarrassing today as i fought against what felt like two different seasons of allergic affliction. it was as if my melodramatic nose couldn’t pick just one allergen to contend with, let alone to publicly humiliate me with—so, even as friday brought with it a merciful conclusion to a long work week of fall allergies, i ended up breathless and sneezy once more, my nose caught off guard after passing by these brightly colored remnants of spring and summer. the comforting, crisp chill and damp smell in the air of the incoming autumn had almost made me forget about the flowers and their threat to my already sensitive nose, until their bright colors caught my eye, in stark contrast with the grey evening sky.
i tried so hard not to inhale until i was past the stretch of flower-garden-allergy-torture, but somehow i forgot that sniffling is a form of inhaling, and the strong, floral scented air managed to hit me even through the double-layered protection of my mask and my existing mild congestion. i don’t think i even got to fully sniffle before my eyes were filling with allergic tears and my breath was hitching, the tickle too deep in my nose to hold back.
like all my allergic sneezes, especially the ones that start when my nose is already drippy and sniffly and dramatically irritated, these were bound to be wet, and there was no time to even pull down my mask, let alone scramble for my travel pack of tissues. in a panic i tried to stifle, which only made everything so much worse and only actually worked for about three poorly stifled sneezes before the first desperate, unrestrained sneeze ripped through me. obviously it didn’t have far to go, given the mask still hugging my face and caging my mouth and nose, but there was no way i was taking off the mask now. the damage was done, and i couldn’t risk the embarrassment of anyone seeing me like this.
not when the more i sneezed, the more mess i could feel run down my chin, completely coating the lower half of my face and inside of my mask. feeling the spray of each sneeze against my mask only made my embarrassment about yet another public sneezing fit worse, my ears and cheeks reddening even more than my nose. i tried stifling again but realized it was pointless, resigning myself to walking as fast as i could while remaining upright as my body snapped forward with harsh, uncontrollable allergic sneezes. my only solace was the slight muffle the (now drenched) mask provided, keeping my head down and towards my chest as i sneezed and shuffled my feet clumsily along the sidewalk. i only ended up having to stop my awkward, sneezy speed-walking once in the remaining two blocks home, for a rogue rapid fit that came so fast, all i could do was stop in my tracks to sneeze over and over again into my mask, my chin tucked into my chest as i instinctively held my elbow up as if to cover the fit despite the mask.
by the time i got into my apartment i had sneezed probably 35 times into my mask and the mess trapped inside was clinging awkwardly to my ever flaring nostrils, making the still unsatisfied itch even more unbearable. it felt almost like purposeful torture, as if the sensation of the mask’s now cool, damp fabric against the existing need to sneeze had become someone who was lightly tickling my nose with a feather, playfully torturing my glistening nostrils as they twitched. my nose was so unbelievably itchy and impossible to ignore in those last few steps to my apartment that i couldn’t help but try to rub my nose against my chest as i fumbled with my keys to unlock the front door. it didn’t even register with me that i was doing it until i had the door open and realized how ineffective of a handsfree nose rubbing method that had been, my desperate attempt at relief only bothering my nose more.
i didn’t even get the door all the way closed behind me before i was sneezing again, my walk up the stairs made difficult by more sudden rapid-fire sneezes, but i was determined to make it all the way home before i lost complete control. even though i was virtually alone, i still had no intention of taking off the mask until i was truly alone and behind a closed, preferably locked door—the thought of anyone seeing how much of a mess i was behind the mask was unbearable, somehow even more embarrassing than all the actual public sneezing itself. it couldn’t have taken me more than seconds to unlock my apartment door, the final destination and end to this nightmare, but it felt agonizingly long as i sneezed in rapid sets of 3s that felt like they echoed up and down the stairs. literally all i could think about was ripping the mask off, finally freeing my nose of the sort of self-inducing allergic torture chamber my mask had become and burying my mouth and nose into about a dozen tissues at once to have the fit of my life (or at least this week 🤣),
i truly applaud this man for not only keeping these flowers alive but THRIVING to the point they’re still pollinating, even as the temperatures drop and leaves fall in the same backyard, but i can’t deny that i daydream about the day i don’t have to try to hold my breath as i walk down that block…
so yeah, i guess in the nicest and gentlest way possible, i can’t wait for this man’s flowers to die (or be moved to some nice imaginary greenhouse in a land far away)
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It’s the way Steve places a pin in that damn map of Hawkins. Two fingers, muddy knuckles. Fuck if Eddie knows the actual destination because all he can navigate is the curve of Steve’s index finger as he smooths out the edges of the map.
And it’s stupid, right? Because the world is folding in on itself and he’s looking at a guy in the kind of way Victorian novelists would only describe as ‘longingly.’ It’s objectively stupid. Probably some adrenaline bullshit that a doctor could explain with a brain scan.
The rest of the group has scattered, plotting amongst themselves. Pulling plans out of their asses. Finding layers of courage behind clues and cassette tapes.
Eddie should do that too. Plan. Make decisions. Do anything other than stare at the dirt underneath Steve’s goddamn fingernails.
“Please blink, Munson.” Steve says while clearing his throat. He’s been doing that a lot. Which is, like, understandable after coughing up lake water all night long.
He clears his throat again. “Show sign of life before I ransack the supply bag for that shit you call music.”
“That… shit?” Eddie spits out the words. Briefly forgets his swirly Steve feelings because of the fucking audacity on this guy. “Rightrightright, because Bob Seger is so fucking dignified, huh?”
“Uh-oh.” Dustin murmurs behind him.
“Because Old Time Rock and Roll is the highest ranking of ear candy?” Eddie searches through their duffel bag until he finds Steve’s Vecna Saftey Tape. Waves it around wildly as he speaks. “Forgive me. I didn’t know entry-level chord progressions were considered Carnegie Hall worthy these days. But by all means, call my music shit.”
He throws the tape at Steve’s lap before dropping back down to his seat on the couch.
“Well,” Steve smirks. “At least we know if the music won’t wake you up, mocking it sure as hell will.”
“Guys. Focus.” Nancy steps into the center of the room. Everyone nods, even Eddie. They listen intently to her directions. Henderson doesn’t interrupt her, not even once.
Nancy’s entire demeanor is charged with currents of determination. It’s honestly impressive. Truly. She could convince congress to change the fucking constitution if she wanted. Have the supreme court eating out of her palm with how persuasive she can be.
And the only thing that distracts her, is the same thing distracting Eddie.
Two fingers. Muddy knuckles.
Eddie follows her gaze back over to Steve. Her expression softening when she sees him.
It’s cruel and expected. Cruel that Eddie has to witness such softness, knowing exactly how it feels. Expected because wedding bells can practically be heard every time those two interact with each other. No one can deny that.
But knowing all this doesn’t stop the cruelty from squeezing Eddie’s stomach till his insides feel raw.
He swallows down his flimsy fantasies. Keeps repeating those words from back in the woods:
It’s jealousy, it’s jealousy, it’s jealousy, it’s-
“Hey, man.” Steve says.
Man? Not ‘Nancy, my betrothed?’ Not “Nancy, my muse?”
… Man?
Eddie blinks. Glances up to see Steve looking at him. “Your taste in music isn’t complete shit.”
Which isn’t exactly an apology. But the teasing scratches an itch in Eddie’s brain that he hasn’t be able to reach for a very long time.
“Yeah.” Eddie says. “I guess Bob Seger’s stuff is… intermediate. Assistant managerial-level chord progressions.”
He pauses. Then leans in and adds a quick, “At best.”
They both laugh a little. It’s cut short by Steve clearing his throat again. One of the many reminders that they’re not well.
That nothing they’re going through is fair. Not even in the same universe as Fair. Eddie’s eyes fall to the red markings around Steve’s neck. Wonders if that makes his cough hurt worse.
“Look.” Steve nudges Eddie’s arm. Pulls his attention back into this moment. “We’ve got this, okay?”
Eddie can’t exactly tell if there’s softness in Steve’s eyes - the same kind Nancy gives to him so freely. Or if it’s just regularly scheduled Concern. But it doesn’t even matter because Steve said that.
We.
‘We’ve got this.’
Him and Steve.
And, okay, was Steve referring to a collective ‘we?’ Sure, yeah. Obviously. But Eddie is allowing himself to wallow in delusion while the world’s expiration date remains questionable.
So he aims a lovesick smile at Steve and sighs. “Whatever you say, Harrington.”
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